


My King, My Lionheart

by clasch



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clasch/pseuds/clasch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Merlin and Arthur if BBC's Merlin had been on a little later at night.  On HBO.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's Something About You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all. This is hardly my first Merthur rodeo (it's actually my second!), but it is my first time with ao3. I have decided to find places in every episode for some Merthur goodness because I'm still crying over the ending. I started this particular chapter in January, but college happened, so here it is finally. Enjoy!
> 
> Merlin and its characters don't belong to me. Trust me, the ending would have been vastly different.
> 
> (Minor edits at the 8-6-16 update. Second chapter in progress.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Merlin gets a job he didn't want with a man he didn't want to want, but absolutely did. Set in 1.01.

****

“ _Where’s_ the target?” an arrogant voice drawled as Merlin stepped, blinking, into the bright sunshine of the courtyard.

“There, sir,” came the tentative reply.

“It’s into the sun.”

Merlin matched the arrogant voice to one of the most handsome men he had ever seen: carelessly windswept, golden hair framing a face lit up by the sun and laughter. His broad shoulders and the leanly muscled chest held upright indicated strength and status.

“But—it’s not that bright,” answered the manservant or squire or punching bag, Merlin couldn’t tell which.

“Bit like you, then!” the blond man sneered, inspiring a chorus of laughter among the other good-looking, muscular men.

“I’ll put the target at the other end, shall I, sir?” Punching Bag glanced at his feet, sounding resigned. With a nod from the blond man, he turned and hefted the target over his shoulder, heading for the opposite end of the courtyard.

Merlin saw the blond man turn to the group and mutter something to them. “This’ll teach him.” The blond man stepped back, whipping a dagger from a sheath on his hip and throwing it at the retreating target, striking the center circle with practiced precision. The handsome group laughed again, apparently agreeing with the blond man’s teaching methods.

Punching Bag must have felt the dagger hit the target on his back because his face reappeared over its rim, startled. “Hey, hang on!”

“Don’t stop,” the blond man jeered.

Nervously, Punching Bag readjusted his grip on the target and continued a few more steps into the shade. “Here?” he asked.

An indulgent smile spread across the blond man’s face as he reared back and let loose another knife. Punching Bag realized his mistake, wrenching the target up over his head the split second before the blade embedded itself in what would have been his forehead.

“Come on!” the blond man taunted, amusement coloring his voice. “Run!” He threw another dagger, the whole lot of them laughing now. “We want some _moving_ target practice.”

Blade after blade struck the target until Punching Bag dropped it and it rolled to a stop at Merlin’s feet. On his hands and knees, Punching Bag looked apprehensively up at Merlin. Not knowing when he had decided to step in, Merlin was suddenly speaking. “Hey,” he started, addressing the blond man who had turned to receive the appreciation of his peers. “Come on, that’s enough.”

The blond man turned to face Merlin, the wide grin fading from his handsome face.

Merlin tried a smile in return, but the man took a step forward with an indignant, “What?”

“You’ve had your fun my friend,” Merlin replied. Unfortunately, it appeared this man’s only good qualities were physical. Merlin chanced a quick look up and down the blond man’s body, memorizing the visible bare skin fr some time later when he could be alone.

Punching Bag had finally gotten a hold on the target and was pulling it away from Merlin as the blond man swaggered still closer. “Do I know you?” he asked, a smile, wry though it was, gracing his face once again.

“Er—I’m Merlin,” Merlin answered, offering his hand, unprepared for the blond man’s quick reply.

“So I don’t know you.” He stopped an arm’s length away from Merlin without making a move to take the proffered hand.

Merlin dropped his hand to his side, noticing Punching Bag had abandoned the target and stood up. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yet you called me _friend_.” The blond man spoke slowly as if he were trying the words out for the first time.

“That was my mistake,” Merlin retorted, surprised and annoyed by the blond man’s rudeness. He thought bitterly of his actual friends, well, _friend_ in Ealdor, guilt twisting painfully in his gut. An eighth of this man’s wealth could feed the entire village for a year. Merlin could see it in the wrinkle between his eyebrows, the cock of his head as he puzzled over Merlin’s bluntness.

“Yes, I think so.” The blond man smiled again, amusement playing in his eyes like he knew something Merlin did not.

“Yeah,” Merlin countered. “I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.” His ears burned, but the blond man gave a breathy laugh and looked at the ground. Feeling it was safe to get on with his errands now, Merlin stepped away, eyeing the other people in the courtyard. They all stared back at him with wide eyes, quickly looking away when they noticed he was observing them.

“Or I one who could be so stupid,” the blond man said and Merlin heard the metallic clink of his armor as he drew near again.

Merlin turned to face the approaching man. Merlin’s annoyance with him had done nothing to affect his appreciation for the blond man’s looks. He stole one more glance at the strong chin and startlingly blue eyes, the smooth skin of an aristocratic neck and the golden hairs peeking out from the opening of his tunic, the legs clearly muscled through his trousers and the curve of his hip disappearing under his hem before meeting the arrogant stare. Magic curled away from Merlin, lazily reaching out to the handsome man. There was something about him that drew Merlin in, despite Merlin’s better judgement.

“Tell me, _Merlin_.” The blond man paused, sweeping his own gaze over Merlin’s big ears and gangly limbs poking out from ill-fitting garments. “Do you know how to walk on your knees?”

Merlin swallowed, unbidden images flooding his mind of himself doing just that, approaching a far less-clothed blond man. “No, he replied shortly, willing his voice not to shake.

“Would you like me to help you?” The blond man’s eyes flashed.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Merlin said rather breathlessly. The blond man was quite close to him and still approaching, almost predatorily.

The blond man suddenly laughed and that wide smile reappeared. “Why? What are _you_ gonna do to me?”

Yet more flashes of the blond man’s hands fisted in Merlin’s hair, a cry forming on his lips; the blond man’s back arching into Merlin’s touch, face down on some fine bed; the blond man flushed and breathless while Merlin traced the sculpted body with his fingertips. Warmth rose in Merlin's cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Merlin swallowed again. “You have no idea.”

With another laugh, the blond man stepped back. “Be my guest! Come on!” He opened his arms, taunting Merlin when he did not make a move. “Come on. _Come on_.”

The punch did not land. The blond man had Merlin’s arm twisted behind his back far before there would have been contact with that strong jaw. Merlin grunted, both uncomfortable and very aware of his proximity to the blond man’s hips. Magic itched at his fingertips, yearning to slick the blond man’s hands with sweat to make him lose his grip or nudge a stone under his toe to trip him. It would be nothing, a trivial push--

“I’ll have you thrown in jail for that,” the blond man said, breath hitting Merlin’s ear.

“Who do you think you are, the _king_?” Merlin snapped, struggling to look at his captor’s damned handsome face.

“No, I’m his son. _Arthur_.”

So that was the something Merlin did not know.

****

Merlin strode into the Lower Town, mulling over the strange straw doll and bound book he had seen in Lady Helen’s chambers. Something was going on, he could _feel_ it, but he had no inkling as to what it could be. Merlin had the felt powerful magic in that room, but it was twisted, misshapen and made of what? Anger? Despair? His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Arthur and his hangers-on. Merlin brushed by, hoping he would not be noticed. He did not fancy another night in the cells and was sure he still smelled vaguely of tomatoes.

“How’s your knee-walking coming along?” Arthur drawled, addressing Merlin with the same tone as he had Punching Bag.

Merlin kept walking, pressing his lips together to contain a retort.

“Oh, don’t run away,” Arthur continued. Merlin could _hear_ his jeering smile.

Merlin stopped and took a breath. “From you?”

“Thank gods,” Arthur said. “I thought you were deaf as well as dumb.”

The calming breath did not work. “Look, I’ve told you you’re an ass,” Merlin began, turning on his heel to face Arthur. “I just didn’t realize you were a royal one.”

Arthur let out a puff of air and regarded the tip of his boot.

Exhilarated by his small victory, Merlin spoke again without meaning to. “What are you going to do? You’ve got your daddy’s men to protect you?”

Arthur laughed in two short bursts. “I could take you apart with one blow.”

“I could take you apart with less than that,” Merlin replied, voice low, intentions plain. The images from before burned in his mind once more: _Arthur_ splayed in his royal chambers wearing only a crown, chest heaving; _Arthur_ pressed back against an unlocked door, eyes screwed shut and biting his lip; _Arthur_ in Merlin’s tiny room, practicing _his_ knee-walking.

“Are you sure?”

Merlin tore off his baggy jacket, magic curling around him, unable to stand Arthur’s condescending tone a moment longer. Arthur’s merry, haughty laugh rang in his ears as he fumbled with the flail Arthur tossed him.

“Here you go, big man. Come on, then.” Arthur whipped his own weapon in practiced, deadly circles. “I warn you: I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”

“Wow,” Merlin nodded. “And how long have you been training to be a prat?”

Arthur allowed another breath of a laugh. “You can’t address me like that.”

Heart pounding, Merlin mirrored the smile on Arthur’s face, leaning forward, but meeting Arthur’s steady gaze. “Sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat, _my lord_?”

Merlin barely ducked the blow.

****

“What could you have possibly done now?” Gaius shouted, rapping on Merlin’s door and jerking it open without bothering to wait for a reply.

Merlin, startled at the surprise entrance, lurched to a sitting position and grunting at the sudden pain in his shoulder. “What d’you mean?” he asked indignantly.

“You haven’t left since you got back from your _duel_ have you?” Gaius looked suspiciously at him, raising an eyebrow.

“No, of course not,” Merlin insisted. “You told me to stop causing trouble. I’ve been here all afternoon.”

“Well you’ve been summoned. By Prince Arthur.”

Surprised, Merlin swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood, stretching his injured arm. “I suppose I’d better get a move on, then. Wouldn’t want to keep _his highness_ waiting,” Merlin jested.

Gaius smacked him across the back of his head. “Do you _want_ to spend another day in the stocks, Merlin?”

Laughing quietly and shaking his head, Merlin dodged another blow and retreated, heading in the direction of Arthur’s chambers. What could Arthur possibly want with him? Merlin certainly knew what he wanted with Arthur.

 _Arthur leaned against his chamber door, head thrown back, trousers pooled around his ankles. He sighed as Merlin’s fist finally closed around him. Merlin squeezed gently, but did not move. “Is this to your liking_ my lord _?’_

_”For gods' sake, Merlin, get a move on,” Arthur muttered through gritted teeth, bucking his hips slightly._

_Merlin laughed and stroked once, other hand tracing the soft skin of Arthur’s bare thigh._

_”_ Merlin _,” Arthur grunted heatedly and covered Merlin’s hand with his own, trying to force cooperation._

 _Merlin allowed Arthur to guide his hand for a few moments before tutting and letting go. “Now,_ sire _, if you would like to take care of yourself you are welcome to do so.”_

 _”Don’t_ tease _, Merlin. Get on with it!” Arthur insisted, voice cracking with frustration as Merlin squeezed his hips, fingers playing along the curve of his arse._

_Straightening up, Merlin brushed a lock of sweaty hair from Arthur’s forehead and traced his cheek, forefinger catching on his plump bottom lip. Merlin sighed happily when Arthur trapped the finger between his teeth. Merlin’s other hand slid up to stroke Arthur’s neck before grabbing a fistful of golden hair. Arthur thrust against Merlin’s clothed thigh in shock, a sharp breath escaping him. Finger extricated from Arthur’s mouth, Merlin held Arthur firmly against the door with one hand, the other maintaining his grip on Arthur’s hair. He stepped closer, nudging Arthur’s knees open with one of his own._

_Arthur grunted as the rough fabric of Merlin’s trousers scraped against him and again when he felt Merlin’s, albeit clothed, arousal rub his thigh. Merlin leaned close to Arthur’s ear. “And this? Is_ this _acceptable?” Merlin drew out the words, mindful of Arthur trembling underneath him._

_Arthur, restrained, could no longer contain the noises Merlin stole from his lips. He attempted to rut against the marvelous friction._

_Merlin smiled against Arthur’s neck at the prince’s babbling, moving his hips faster for both their sakes._

_”Mer--, yes,_ please _, Merlin,” Arthur panted._

 _”Hush,_ sire _. We wouldn’t want to be discovered now, would we?” Merlin teased, breathless himself._

_Arthur moaned, louder than ever, and stiffened against Merlin, shuddering and gasping for breath..._

Merlin reached Arthur’s chambers more than a little aroused. He sighed, glancing at the bulge in his trousers. “Calm down, Merlin. There’s nothing exciting about being thrown in the stocks,” Merlin muttered under his breath. Steeling himself, he knocked lightly on the door.

“Enter,” Arthur said from within.

Merlin pushed the door open and stepped into the prince’s chambers. He closed the door softly behind him, then turned to face Arthur, clasping his hands in front of himself. He had noticed this gesture was considered a sign of respect and appreciated the concealment. Arthur was absorbed in the roll of parchment in front of him, apparently taking no notice of Merlin’s entrance. Merlin waited a moment, rocking back on his heels, and cleared his throat. “Ah—sire?” Merlin flushed at the reference to his fantasy.

Arthur glanced up from the parchment looking mildly surprised. “It’s ‘ _sire_ ’ now, is it, Merlin?” Arthur teased.

Merlin cleared his throat once again. “I was summoned,” he said after a long moment.

“Yes,” Arthur agreed amiably, reaching for a quill and scribbling something in the margins of the parchment. “You were.”

Merlin, still trying to banish the images of Arthur, head thrown back, groaning and twitching, pinned against the very door through which Merlin had just entered, did not know what to say. He settled on: “Ah— _why_ was I summoned?”

Arthur took great care in putting away his quill and rolling up the scroll before resting his elbows on the table, hands folded. He gazed at Merlin, expression inscrutable. “Don’t hang about in the doorway, Merlin. Come," he beckoned.

Merlin’s ears burned, the conclusion of his fantasy replaying in his mind’s eye, but he did as he was told, hands clasped even more tightly in front of himself. The added pressure was not unpleasant.

Merlin, trying not to stare at the handsome man who was somehow haloed in golden sunlight, eyed the prince’s messy chambers. It seemed Arthur was in the habit of throwing around his possessions. Or a windstorm had blown through. Or Arthur had fought off a group of Saxons in the room.

“I’d not run into you, let alone seen you around the castle, before you so rudely interrupted my training session. No subject of mine is stupid enough to not recognize their prince within the city walls, so you must be newly arrived, are you not?” Arthur asked finally, breaking the silence.

Merlin was more surprised at Arthur’s keen observation than his careless insult. Perhaps the prince was not as dense as he seemed. “Yes,” he replied. “On Wednesday from Ealdor.”

Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

“Er—sire,” Merlin added hastily.

Arthur laughed then, a smile breaking across his face like the dawn. “I only wondered what a villager of Cenred’s was doing in Camelot.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed and still a little aroused, Merlin shifted between his feet, wary of meeting the prince’s eye. The unexpected bright smile of the prince made it far too easy to notice tiny details about the prince’s face too obvious for Merlin’s liking. He had no reason to know that Arthur’s smile rose ever so slightly higher on one side or that his blue eyes were flecked with gold.

“There’s something about you,” Arthur said, echoing his earlier sentiment from the end of their disastrous duel. He inclined his head, regarding Merlin with a piercing stare.

Feeling exposed down to his very soul, Merlin mumbled, “There’s nothing special about me, sire.”

“Come now, Merlin. We both know that’s not quite true.”

Merlin’s heart leapt into his throat, stomach twisting itself into knots. Arthur had seen him using magic during their altercation in the marketplace But then why wasn’t Merlin already locked in the dungeons waiting for the pyre? “Wh-what do you mean?” Merlin stammered.

“You’re e _special_ ly rude and idiotic.” Arthur smiled again, blue eyes twinkling with laughter.

Merlin bristled, stomach untwisting, heart settling back into its proper place. He knew now that Arthur jested, but still.

“Come now, Merlin. We wouldn’t want another incident like this afternoon.” Arthur stood then and smoothed his tunic.

Merlin swallowed, following Arthur’s hands down his sides. He couldn’t decide what to think about the handsome man before him. He was inexplicably drawn to Arthur, but _why_? Arthur was arrogant and princely, big-headed and stubborn, but _gods_ Arthur was beautiful. Merlin had never seen a man so beautiful. He longed to brush the flyaway golden hairs from Arthur’s forehead as Arthur gazed up at him from between his legs, scratch the smooth skin of Arthur’s back as Arthur moved against him, face buried in his rich coverlet, lap at the sticky release on Arthur’s sweaty chest as Arthur gasped for breath, sprawled lazily in his desk chair.

His ears burned at the images playing in his mind’s eye and he clenched the hands in front of his groin more tightly.

Arthur stepped toward Merlin and clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “I summoned you to make sure you understand, Merlin. _You_ wouldn’t want another incident like this afternoon. Unless of course you enjoyed your night in the cells.”

Merlin didn’t hear him. Gaius’s draught for the pain had nearly worn off and Arthur was _strong_. Pain blossomed across the injured shoulder and Merlin breathed in sharply, gritting his teeth.

“ _Merlin_ , I just told you—What’s the matter?” Apparently ever-sharp, Arthur noticed that Merlin’s expression was pained rather than irritated.

“Nothing, it’s nothing--” Merlin said, but Arthur was already steering him to the table and forcing him to lean against it.

“Your shoulder, right? You fell on it this afternoon.” Arthur crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought Gaius had seen to it by now.”

Arthur was full of surprises, Merlin noted. “He gave me a draught for the pain, but it must have worn off.”

“Well then, shirt off. Let me have a look,” Arthur told him.

“I—What? No, I—I can just get anoth--” Merlin protested, but Arthur cut him off.

“Shirt _off_ , Merlin. The draught will do nothing to heal the shoulder if there is something more seriously wrong with it.”

“I’m sure Gaius would have noticed if--” Merlin began. An obstinate look from Arthur silenced him and he sighed and tugged at the laces of his tunic. Blushing, Merlin pulled the shirt over his head, extracting his right arm from the sleeve carefully.

Arthur bade him to turn around, which Merlin did after only the slightest hesitation. He hung his head, eyes burning, and stared at the grainy surface of the table, clutching his tunic in front of him. Strong fingers gently prodded his shoulder.

“It isn’t broken or dislocated,” Arthur said, feeling around the ridges of Merlin’s shoulder blade. “Roll your shoulder back.”

Merlin complied, trying not to notice Arthur’s breath on the back of his neck.

“And forward.”

Arthur seemed to be satisfied with his examination and Merlin felt the warm fingertips leave his shoulder. He took this as his cue to turn around, hugging his tunic to his bare chest.

And Arthur kissed him.

Shocked, Merlin dropped the shirt he was holding, but he quickly rallied, curling his arms around the prince’s waist to pull him closer. Everything about Arthur was _hot_ : the heat radiating off his back through his tunic, the warm, smooth lips moving against Merlin’s, the fiery look in his eyes when he pulled away. Joy flooded through him, melting into his bones, before he reminded himself it was madness to be this happy about snogging a man he had met only a few days before.

“I saw you looking at me,” Arthur said in a low voice, leaning close to Merlin’s ear. He caught the lobe between his teeth ever so gently and released it with a kiss.

Merlin, who had swallowed sharply and held his breath at the feeling of Arthur’s teeth on his ear, scoffed at that. “Everyone was looking at you.”

Arthur laughed into the curve of Merlin’s neck, pressing a searing kiss onto his shoulder. “Naturally. But only you were feasting your eyes. Perhaps if your every thought was not written plainly on his face...”

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur removed himself from Merlin’s embrace and pulled off his tunic, letting it fall to the floor. The golden hairs Merlin had managed to spot before dusted the prince’s broad chest, darker on his stomach.

But Merlin did not have time to _feast_ on the handsome scene before him because Arthur was on him again, strong hands gripping his narrow hips and hot mouth seeking his own. Merlin settled into the shorter man’s arms, savoring the taste of the prince. He hardly noticed his arousal returning until Arthur shifted and suddenly there was something hard against his leg and he was pressed against a muscled thigh.

Arthur groaned into Merlin’s mouth at the unexpected contact. He kissed Merlin with renewed vigor, lips parting, slick tongue emerging.

And Arthur had picked Merlin up and deposited him on the edge of the table behind him. Merlin hooked his legs around Arthur’s back, his arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling him closer. He slid his fingers into Arthur’s hair, curling them into the silky strands.

Arthur, securely nestled between Merlin’s legs, ran his hands up Merlin’s naked back. Blunt fingernails scraped at Merlin’s neck where the knot of his handkerchief normally rested.

It was Merlin who moved away first, a little short of breath, but grinning broadly. He unhooked his ankles and slid off the table, accidentally landing on Arthur’s foot.

“Oi!” Arthur chided, but Merlin’s hands had untangled themselves from Arthur’s hair and traced down the strong muscles of his chest.

Merlin was absolutely enjoying the heated skin beneath his fingers, exploring the broad expanse carefully, for surely he was dreaming, suffering from a heavy blow to the head.

“Get on with it,” Arthur interrupted, attaching his mouth to the sensitive skin under Merlin’s ear.

Merlin groaned at the combination of his words and his _tongue_. Arthur must be reading his mind, plucking phrases from his fantasy self with ease. Merlin wasted no more time, suddenly desperate for the delicious rub of Arthur against himself, the choked groans he resolved to steal from the prince’s lips, the slick heat that Merlin would wrench from him.

Merlin had difficulty with the ties of the prince’s breeches because Arthur had chosen that moment to nip at Merlin’s ear again, worrying the patch of skin between his teeth.

Without even realizing, his eyes flashed golden, magic reaching from his fingertips, and the ties came loose. Merlin’s heart beat wildly in his thin chest, but Arthur had his face buried in Merlin’s neck, far too busy to notice the treasonous gold in Merlin’s eyes. Anxious to move past his slip up, Merlin untied his own breeches with shaking fingers.

Arthur kissed his way up Merlin’s jaw and chin and captured Merlin’s mouth with his own as Merlin tugged their trousers away and _then_ Arthur’s hot, hard flesh was pressed against his.

Arthur gasped into Merlin’s mouth, breaking away from the kiss. He rested his forehead against Merlin’s for just a moment, gazing down at the erotic sight of their cocks nestled between them.

They must look a spectacle, prince and commoner pressed together with their breeches around their ankles, flushed and sweaty, lips plump, a bruise forming on Merlin’s neck. Yet, there was something so undeniably _right_ , that Merlin couldn’t help but cry out quietly, rolling his hips into Arthur, who threaded his fingers into Merlin’s short hair and glanced expectantly up at Merlin.

More than happy to oblige, Merlin met the prince’s eye as he spat into his palm and reached between them.

At that, Arthur groaned and threw his head back. “ _Filthy_.”

Merlin laughed breathlessly, wrapping his now slick hand around the two of them. Arousal and magic coursed through his veins. He felt as if he was on fire; he _must_ be on fire.

The pair moved together urgently, thrusting in Merlin’s hand, relishing in the drag of their skin against each other. Arthur kissed Merlin again, licking into his mouth, _claiming_ him.

Merlin gasped around Arthur’s tongue. He could feel himself rushing toward that glorious precipice. “ _Sire_ ,” he cried, breaking away from the kiss and burying his face in Arthur’s neck.

Arthur let out a low, strangled noise and stiffened against Merlin. “Mer--” he started, but finished with a groan, pulsing in Merlin’s hand.

Merlin screwed his eyes shut against the betraying flash of gold that accompanied his release. He shuddered against the prince, striping his stomach. His magic had flared as he had gone over the edge, a blinding flash of power, strong as a clap of thunder, a crashing wave in a stormy sea. Merlin could have stood in the prince’s arms, arousal ebbing away, release drying on his stomach for hours, _forever_.

But Arthur broke away abruptly and Merlin fell against the table behind him.

Arthur pulled his trousers up, tucking himself into them. He did not seem to be able to meet Merlin’s relaxed gaze.

Merlin’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as Arthur strode to a basin, filled it with a water jug, and dabbed a damp cloth at his stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, still shaky.

But Arthur spoke first with his back to Merlin. “Ah. Speak of this to no one. You are dismissed.”

Merlin blanched. He wrenched his breeches up and tugged his tunic over his head, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. “Glad to be of _service, my lord_ ,” he said with as much unpleasantness as he could muster and stormed out of the room. He did not see Arthur’s knuckles whiten around the edge of the table that held the washbasin or hear the small, sad sigh as the heavy door slammed behind him.

 _The nerve of him!_ Merlin fumed as he stalked down the corridor and down the many stairs back to Gaius’s chambers. _Gods save us when_ he _becomes king_. Merlin rubbed angrily at the tender spot on his neck that Arthur had bitten. _And that’ll bruise_.

Without a word to Gaius, Merlin stalked to his room and shut the door behind him, falling onto his small bed, and forcing himself to breathe evenly until he fell asleep.

****

It all happened so quickly: the fatal song, the dropped chandelier, the dagger. Merlin acted without thinking, especially not about their tryst or the dragon’s words of destiny.

He felt the eyes of the court upon him, _Arthur’s_ eyes especially, but Merlin stood still, not meeting anyone’s stare. He shifted between his feet, sure he was discovered and he would burn next.

“You saved my boy’s life,” Uther said, composed surprise in his voice.

“Er—well,” Merlin stammered, but Uther interrupted him. Merlin’s gaze flicked to Arthur finally, who stared at him, entirely astonished.

“No, don’t be so modest. You shall be rewarded.”

Merlin glanced at his feet again, unsure of what to do. “No, honestly—you don’t have to, your highness.”

“Absolutely. This merits something quite special.” Uther had obviously already made up his mind.

Merlin shrugged, imagining a small sum of gold. “Well--”

“You shall be awarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur’s manservant.”

And Uther swept away regally, oblivious to the shared look of horror between Merlin, who dug his nails into his palms behind his back, and Arthur who protested, “Father!”

But there was no more to be said. The court stood, applauding, while the two men tried to glance at the other while they weren’t looking.

“Remember what I said before, Merlin: Speak of it to no one,” Arthur said through gritted teeth.

“Of course, _my lord_.”

But as the door of Arthur’s chambers closed firmly behind them, he was on him again.


	2. I Wouldn't Lie to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur trusts Merlin, but Uther doesn't, and is almost killed because of it. Set in 1.02.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy anniversary everyone. Here is some early, happy(ish) stuff to cheer you up. Enjoy.
> 
> Also, college is all-consuming, so forgive me for the six(?) month interlude between updates.

****

It was rather fun training with Merlin even though Arthur would never tell him that. Arthur knew that Merlin would get this stupid, pleased, _adorable_ look on his face and Arthur would have to cuff him around the back of the head to keep himself from pinning Merlin against a tree.

Of course, Merlin was pretty terrible with a sword, so Arthur wasn’t really getting any meaningful training in that morning. Perhaps they could do something more _productive_ with their time.

Arthur shook himself mentally, forcing the thoughts of the little noises Merlin had made against his neck and how soft the skin just under Merlin’s ear was out of his mind. “Come on, Merlin, you’re not even trying.” And he rapped Merlin smartly on the arse with the flat of his blade before he could stop himself. Merlin staggered away, trying to clutch at his helmeted head with both hands full.

Merlin’s indignant, “I _am_ ,” was muffled by the helmet that Arthur was eternally grateful for. He didn’t think he could handle a bout with Merlin without it. A flushed and sweaty Merlin would be far too easy to tackle and have his way with.

Arthur swallowed. “Once more,” he said as Merlin turned to face him and nearly tripped over his own feet. _Focus, Arthur_ , he thought, berating himself, then Merlin for good measure. “ _Come on, Merlin_. I’ve got a tournament to win.”

He forced himself to keep his tone light and teasing as he stood over Merlin, who had finally fallen down and lay there, without his helmet, just as flushed as Arthur had imagined. “You’re braver than you look. Most servants collapse after the first blow.”

Merlin stared up at him, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “Is it over?” he asked, too hopefully.

“That was just a warm-up. How’s your mace work coming along?”

And if Arthur threw himself a little too ferociously into the rest of the training session, well that was his business.

****

Swords apparently weren’t the only thing Merlin was terrible at, Arthur discovered as Merlin fumbled with every single strap of Arthur’s armor. He was nervous, but he could not allow himself to be distracted. He had to defend his title and make his father proud. He bickered with Merlin until he snatched the almost-forgotten sword from his hand and stalked off.

He had a tournament to win.

****

It was obvious that Merlin didn’t like Knight Valiant. Arthur felt him tense as he undid the ties rather more deftly than he had done them up earlier. It was irritating that Merlin was better at taking off Arthur’s clothes than he was at putting them on.

Distracted by his thoughts that were _certainly not_ about Merlin following him back to his chambers and putting his clothes-taking-off skills to good use, Arthur was caught off guard when Valiant addressed him, inclining his head politely.

“May I offer my congratulations on your victories today?” the knight said in a way that felt more like a challenge, even though the knight was perfectly courteous.

“Likewise,” Arthur replied tersely, very conscious of Merlin’s hands on his back.

“I hope to see you at the reception this evening.”

Valiant nodded again and took his leave, rolling his shoulder back with a dark grin that looked out of place in the bright sunshine of the afternoon.

Arthur and Merlin watched him go. Arthur could feel Merlin relax with each step put between them and Valiant.

“Creep,” Merlin said then, and it surprised Arthur so much he nearly laughed aloud. But when Merlin grinned at him, Arthur remembered that it would not do to be heard laughing with his servant at the expense of another knight.

He cleared his throat, turning his amusement into an impossibly long list of chores for Merlin, which was amusing in its own right, and began his trek back to the castle. After he was sure that Merlin had stopped listening, Arthur grew silent, mulling over Merlin’s intense discomfort around Knight Valiant. He decided he didn’t much like Valiant either.

****

Merlin was much better at putting on Arthur’s armor the next morning.

****

Arthur fought well that day, but so, to Merlin’s displeasure, did Knight Valiant.

They fought well the day after as well.

Arthur smiled his way through dinner with his father and the disqualified competitors, stealing looks at Valiant as the knight received praise from the king.

He needed some more wine.

But later as he sipped from his goblet in his chambers, Merlin pulled a snake’s head out of his jacket and dropped it on the table.

“You?” Arthur asked skeptically and, when Merlin nodded as if he couldn’t believe that Arthur didn’t believe that he had decapitated a snake, shook his head slightly. “You chopped its head off?”

Arthur was unprepared for the steady stream of anxious words that came then, but when Merlin suggested Valiant was cheating Arthur cut him off. “Valiant wouldn’t dare use magic in Camelot,” he said with finality.

Merlin pressed on, ignoring Arthur’s quite obvious end-of-discussion tone. “Ewan was pinned under Valiant’s shield. No one could see the snake bite him--”

Arthur interrupted again. “I don’t like the guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s cheating.” Arthur stood, abandoning his goblet, and turned Merlin’s words over in his mind. Valiant was braver than he looked if he was using magic right under the king’s nose.

“Gaius is preparing an antidote for the snake venom. When Ewan’s conscious, he’ll tell you what happened.”

Arthur turned back to Merlin, who looked so bloody _sincere_ that Arthur was having a hard time disagreeing with him again.

“If you fight Valiant in the final, he’ll use the shield. It’s the only way he can beat you.”

Remarks on Valiant’s skill fell away and Arthur breathed in carefully, glancing up at, apparently doggedly loyal, Merlin.

“Look at it,” Merlin insisted, grabbing the snake head and thrusting it towards Arthur. “Have you ever seen any snakes like this in Camelot?”

Arthur took it from him, inspecting it closely, purposely not noticing the brush of Merlin’s fingers against his own as he did.

“I know I’m just a servant,” Merlin said seriously, choosing his words with care. “And my word doesn’t count for anything.”

Arthur couldn’t help it. He looked up at Merlin’s startlingly blue eyes positively _shining_ in the firelight, damn him.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Arthur spoke cautiously, wary of the nervous, utterly inappropriate feeling in his stomach at those words. “I want you to swear to me what you’re telling me is true.”

“I _swear_ it’s true.”

Merlin looked at him with such sincerity then that he might as well have pledged his life.

“Then I believe you.” Arthur let the moment break and glanced at his feet, but he heard Merlin’s intake of breath, _felt_ his proud smile.

And when Merlin left his chambers a while later, the plan to expose Valiant was prepared and Arthur fell into bed, head spinning with images of smiling blue eyes.

****

Everything was going exactly to plan until, quite suddenly, everything fell apart.

Arthur nodded stiffly at his father and Valiant and took his leave, staring straight ahead, not looking at the still-restrained Merlin.

His pace quickened once he was out of the court’s line of sight and he stormed back to his chambers, furious at himself, at Valiant, at his father. He would have to fight Valiant tomorrow. He would have to fight knowing that the entire court was whispering about his cowardly attempt to get out of fighting. He would have to face his father’s cold anger, his preference for the other knight.

And Merlin made it worse.

When he came in, Arthur had already made up his mind.

Merlin’s attempts to soothe him, to assure him that they could do more, only made Arthur angrier, more disgusted with himself. He lashed out, blaming Merlin for the death of Sir Ewan and their plan along with him, even though he knew that wasn’t fair. And when Merlin just stood there quietly, sadly and let Arthur yell, it made him even angrier.

Arthur had already made up his mind, but the dismissal still left a bitter taste in his mouth. It had to be done, he knew that.

All the same, when Merlin left the room, Arthur sagged against the table, ears ringing with “You _can_ trust me,” because he still did.

****

Hours later, Merlin came to him again, looking tired and wrung out. He didn’t knock.

Arthur looked up from the fire at the sound of footsteps and sighed. “I thought I told you to get out of my sight.”

Ever insolent, Merlin stared at him seriously. “Don’t fight Valiant in the final tomorrow.” Arthur did not miss the silent “Please,” in Merlin’s words.

It wasn’t that easy, why couldn’t Merlin understand that? Arthur shook his head at the flames.

“He’ll use the shield against you--”

“I _know_ ,” Arthur interrupted. Of course he knew. Merlin had _sworn_ to him.

Merlin sounded confused, frustrated. “Then withdraw! You have to withdraw--”

“Don’t you understand?” Arthur asked, bitterness bleeding into his voice, glaring at Merlin. “I _can’t_ withdraw. The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I’m a coward?”

The color was rising in Merlin’s face. “Valiant will _kill_ you. If you fight, you die.”

“Then I die.”

Arthur could not meet Merlin’s eyes. He knew what he would see there and he could not face it.

“How can you go out there and fight like that?”

The disappointment was far worse than the anger he had expected, which frustrated Arthur. Why did he care so much about what Merlin thought of him? Why was he drawn to this man who tripped over his own feet so often it was as if he regularly forgot they were there, this servant who held no regard for authority? But the frustration fizzled out and Arthur sighed. “Because I have to. It’s my duty.”

Merlin squared his shoulders, turned on his heel, and left the room.

Arthur sighed again and buried his head in his hands, scrubbing lightly at his face. He stepped to the window, looking out beyond the castle, his future castle as long as he was not killed by Valiant tomorrow. He undid his belt and pulled his tunic over his head, intending to climb into bed and try to get some sleep.

The door to his chambers slammed shut.

Arthur let his tunic fall to the floor and whirled around, not close enough to his sword. Why hadn’t the guards stopped the intruder?

Except Arthur was facing a very angry Merlin, albeit still an intruder.

“How can you be so damn _noble_?” Merlin fumed, ears red, eyes flashing, coming right up to Arthur and jabbing at his chest with an accusing finger.

This Arthur could deal with. “Comes with the title,” he shot back, grabbing Merlin’s shoulder, intending to guide him out of the room. “Now--”

“You don’t have to bloody well _die_ to prove a point--” Merlin paused his tirade, glancing at the hand that had done nothing to steer him away, then back into Arthur’s eyes.

There was a long moment full of only quiet breathing as they stood rooted to the spot, Merlin poking Arthur’s chest, Arthur gripping Merlin’s shoulder.

Then Arthur slid his hand into the short hairs at the nape of Merlin’s neck and pulled him into a desperate kiss.

Merlin’s gasp as their lips met forced a highly un-prince-like sound out of Arthur’s throat and he grabbed at Merlin’s waist with his free hand to press them together. Merlin rallied and kissed him with matching fervor.

Arthur’s blood thrummed in his ears as he licked into Merlin’s mouth and the other man’s hands skimmed over his chest, brushing at a nipple. His skin burned where Merlin touched him. Arthur tore at the handkerchief keeping him from the smooth skin of Merlin’s neck, making a frustrated noise when the bloody knot wouldn’t give.

Merlin laughed rather breathlessly, which sent a rush of pride through Arthur even though he knew his own breathing was hardly even, and broke away to untie the offending kerchief. Merlin stared at Arthur, eyes alight with mischief, as he dropped the scrap of cloth on the floor.

It was a challenge, but Arthur ignored it in favor of attaching his mouth to the skin under Merlin’s ear, mouthing down his exposed neck as Merlin gasped.

Arousal burned through Arthur’s veins, making his head swim. All he knew was the pale expanse of skin in front of him, the soft noises he could _feel_ under his tongue.

So he was surprised when Merlin moved with sudden agility and pushed him against the cool stone wall. He was so surprised that he yanked his head away and cracked it against the wall that hadn’t been there a moment before. “Ow, _Merlin_ \--”

But Arthur’s chastise turned quite abruptly into a low moan as a hot mouth closed around a nipple. He threw his arm over his face, biting at the fleshy inside of his elbow to stop himself from crying out as Merlin’s hand traced down his stomach. Arthur sucked in an anticipatory breath as Merlin inched ever closer to where he bloody well needed to be. He peeked out from under his arm at Merlin who was bent at a strange angle to continue his onslaught on Arthur’s dignity as he tore soft noises out of Arthur’s throat.

“Won’t you _hurry up_?” Arthur said through gritted teeth, only just managing _not_ to cant his hips toward Merlin.

At that, Merlin broke away from him with a firm bite at his chest, brushing the very tips of his fingers against the ties of Arthur’s breeches.

Merlin looked at Arthur with wide eyes, pupils blown, and leaned in close. Arthur shuddered when Merlin’s breath hit his neck.

“I’m not your servant anymore,” Merlin hissed in his ear, grabbing at his hand.

Arthur barely registered what was happening until his palm was pressed against the front of Merlin’s breeches and he could _feel_ \--

He sprang into action, hauling Merlin around by his collar, and shoved him against the wall. Arthur locked eyes with Merlin as he reached between them to rub the length of him through the rough cloth of his trousers, smiling when Merlin’s breath caught in his throat.

For a while, Arthur was quite content to trace the length of Merlin through his breeches and revel in those little noises Merlin kept making, the way Merlin screwed up his face and arched into Arthur’s touch.

“Won’t _you_ hurry up?” Merlin panted.

“Have somewhere more important to be?” Arthur asked cheerfully, but he was already tugging at Merlin’s trousers, letting them fall from Merlin’s skinny waist.

“ _Yes_ , actually,” Merlin said, crossing his arms and trying to look indignant and cross, but really looking ridiculous, half-dressed and flushed, cock jutting out from under the hem of his tunic.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Arthur shot back, but his own attempts to look indignant and cross fell flat when he stared and licked his lips.

Merlin groaned, “Damn you,” and Arthur was pulled into another searing kiss. He trapped Merlin against the wall, nudging a knee between his thighs, as Merlin wrapped his long arms around Arthur’s neck to press them even closer. Merlin’s cock was caught between them, rubbing at Arthur’s bare stomach as they moved together.

When Merlin broke away to catch his breath, Arthur kissed down to the soft skin under those ridiculous ears that he could not seem to get enough of.

“Right, so I’ll be off, then,” Merlin said breathlessly, making no attempt to leave. “Things to do, people to--”

But Merlin didn’t get to finish his quip. Instead he choked and made a strangled noise in his throat.

Arthur had dropped to his knees and licked a stripe up Merlin’s cock. “What was that?” Arthur asked as innocently as he could, staring up at Merlin from between his legs.

“Th-things to-- _oh_ ,” Merlin stammered, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Arthur slid his mouth off of Merlin with an _obscene_ pop. “I didn’t quite catch that,” he teased.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Merlin groaned, breath hitching as Arthur took him into his mouth once again.

Arthur was enjoying himself far too much. He had had his share of fumbles in quiet corners with knights and serving girls alike, but every single one paled in comparison to _Merlin_ of all people. Merlin, the drag of him across Arthur’s tongue, the heady, earthy scent that Arthur could not place, felt more real than all the others combined. Arthur couldn’t explain it, but perhaps that was, at least partially, due to the overwhelming lust that made his head spin. It was all too much.

Arthur saw Merlin’s hands fluttering nervously around his head out of the corner of his eye. He groaned, which made Merlin cry out and barely restrain the buck of his hips, at the thought of those long fingers winding into his hair, pulling him closer, making him fight to breathe. Arthur reached up and nudged at Merlin’s arm, trying to communicate to him that it was all right, more than all right, but unwilling to stop what he was doing to tell him.

But Merlin pulled away entirely, leaving Arthur feeling rather empty. “ _Merlin_ , what--”

“Did I hurt you?” Merlin asked simultaneously, dropping to the floor with his trousers still around his ankles to look at Arthur with concern.

Arthur tackled him. “ _Hurt me_?” he demanded of the man now pinned underneath him. “And just how would _you_ hurt me, Merlin?” He rolled his hips into Merlin’s, only then realizing he was still in his breeches. Unacceptable.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Merlin protested, breath hitching as Arthur rutted against him again. “I _am_ ,” he insisted when Arthur chuckled.

“That wouldn’t be difficult,” Arthur teased. “Honestly, Merlin.” Arthur grabbed at his wrists and crossed them above Merlin’s head. “ _Gaius_ is stronger than you look.”

Merlin cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “You want to talk about Gaius at a time like this?” he asked, looking utterly ridiculous and helpless and damnably _alluring_ , especially when he did _that_ with his hips.

Arthur’s grip on Merlin loosened just enough at that that Merlin was able to wriggle free of Arthur’s grasp and his own trousers, kicking them across the floor. But Arthur could not find it within himself to care when Merlin locked his ankles around Arthur’s waist and pulled him close, one hand at the back of his neck, the other slipping between them to-- _oh_.

“Tell me, _sire_ ,” Merlin began, fingers brushing against Arthur through his damned breeches as he undid the ties far too slowly. “What was it you wanted from me before?”

Arthur bit his lip, both because Merlin somehow made the honorific sound absolutely _filthy_ and also because he was embarrassed and the hand at his neck did not allow him to look away. None of his other lovers had ever requested he _discuss_ his desires with them, and certainly not while they were still tangled together on the floor. “I think that’s rather obvious, _Merlin_ ,” he said, fighting for his dignity. He was Arthur Pendragon; he did not have to confess that he wanted Merlin’s hands wound in his hair, pulling him close as his mouth was filled with Merlin, by Merlin--

“Enlighten me.”

Arthur’s breeches were shoved out of the way and Merlin took him in his hand and it was as good as last time and, _yes_ , Arthur would tell Merlin whatever he wanted--

“ _Merlin_.”

It sounded too much like a moan to be a reproach, but Arthur couldn’t help it when Merlin’s hand on him felt like _that every time_.

Merlin grinned up at him, blue eyes shining, and released Arthur’s neck to trace his lips with a finger, which made Arthur shudder and buck into his hand, brushing against Merlin’s cock as he did.

Determined not to be beaten, Arthur trapped the slim finger between his teeth, but then it was only too easy to take it in his mouth. The finger was a poor replacement to what had previously filled Arthur’s mouth, but Merlin gasped anyway and his smooth stroke along Arthur’s length stuttered.

Arthur released Merlin’s finger and grabbed at the slim leg holding him captive, pushing it aside and ignoring Merlin’s protest. He sat up on his knees, roughly arranging Merlin’s slender body as he pleased, legs bent at the knee and spread far enough for Arthur to settle between them. Merlin propped himself up on his elbows, a small grin playing across his face. Unable to resist turning that coy smile into an open-mouthed gasp, Arthur leaned in to kiss him, suddenly changing course to press his lips to the soft skin of Merlin’s neck under his ear. “Stay put,” Arthur hissed, gently catching the lobe between his teeth.

“Yes, sire,” Merlin breathed.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s pulse racing (or was that his own?) as he settled back between Merlin’s legs, curling over the thin man to press a kiss at the center of his collarbone, the junction of his ribs, just above his navel. He glanced up at Merlin’s flushed face and licked his lips before taking him in his mouth once again.

It did not take very long. Merlin could not keep still, hips making shallow, stuttering movements, one hand fluttering around Arthur’s head, sometimes brushing the hair away from his eyes, sometimes gripping thin air. Arthur could not stand it any longer and reached down to take himself in his hand. Merlin noticed almost immediately and made a choked noise in his throat. “ _Arthur_.”

”I’m a little busy here, if you hadn’t noticed, Merlin,” Arthur said, releasing Merlin with an obscene wet sound and trying to sound more dignified than he felt. “And who gave you permission to address me like that?”

“Oh, do shut up, _sire_ ,” Merlin retorted, shrugging out of his jacket and sitting up.

Arthur started to protest, but then Merlin climbed into his lap and kissed him so fiercely and he could not find it within himself to say another word. Arthur almost did not notice Merlin’s hand slip between them. Their hands slid easily, brushing against one another. The air was filled with slick sounds and unsteady breathing.

All too soon, and yet not soon enough, Merlin buried his face in Arthur’s neck and cried out. Something surged through Arthur, something powerful, and his hand moved faster on himself and he gritted his teeth against his moan.

They sat there for a while with Merlin curled against him, occasionally pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder where Merlin had bitten him in his release. Arthur’s heart beat in his throat at the intimacy of it, both thrilling and terrifying.

Eventually Merlin unfolded himself and stood, moving hastily. Arthur watched him grab his breeches and pull them on. He scooped his jacket up from the floor, tucking it under his arm before crossing the room to Arthur’s basin and wetting a cloth. “Here,” Merlin said quietly, gently dabbing at Arthur’s chest. “Be careful tomorrow.”

And he left, pressing the cloth into Arthur’s hand and hurtling out of the room, catching Arthur’s eye one last time as he closed the door behind him.

Arthur stared after him for several long moments before wiping himself once more and pulling up his own trousers. He stood, sighed at the disarray Merlin had left his thoughts in, and collapsed into bed.

When he woke the next morning, he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing. That was, until he nearly tripped over Merlin’s forgotten handkerchief.

****

Arthur wrenched the sword out of Valiant’s gut and let him fall to the ground unceremoniously. He could hardly hear the cheers of the crowd over the blood rushing in his ears, but he turned to acknowledge them, first returning his father’s slight nod. His lungs burned and the muscles in his legs shook with exhaustion, but he made a turn around the arena before he escaped.

Merlin was there at the exit, grinning at him, eyes tired but _proud_. Arthur could think of nothing to do except give him a light shove, hoping it communicated something that he could not quite express to himself.

Later, after Arthur had peeled off his armor, wiped away most of the dust and magical snake blood, and combed his sweaty hair back from his face, he found the words to apologize to Merlin in the form of reinstatement and yet another ridiculous list of chores. Merlin’s grin faded as Arthur kept talking, a look of disbelief forming in the crinkle between his eyebrows and Arthur focused on that, forcing his thoughts away from the dead man on the field for now. And when his father was too drunk to notice, Arthur spoke a few words in Merlin’s ear and they slipped away from the feast together and did not return.


End file.
